


A Dhampir and an Android

by GeneralRADIX



Category: Marathon (Video Games), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Conversations, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 11:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15435729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralRADIX/pseuds/GeneralRADIX
Summary: Can't sleep? Ask the local supernatural hybrid some questions.





	A Dhampir and an Android

**Author's Note:**

> Short thing I wrote as a sort of test of how these two characters would interact, I guess. Has to do with a larger crossover/fusion idea (for simplicity's sake, it assumes that the Sorrow duology and events leading to it didn't happen in this timeline); art stuff [here](http://general-radix.tumblr.com/post/175571256758/first-bit-of-maravania-art-more-to-come), [here](http://general-radix.tumblr.com/post/175639976705/big-ol-page-of-maravania-stuff-half-cleaned-up), and [here](http://general-radix.tumblr.com/post/175880329915/crossover-related-thing-that-evolved-from-a).

These two weeks had been more eventful than the past month or so, and in the worst way possible.

First, the _Rozinante_ had answered a distress signal originating from Valahia, one of the UESC's larger off-world colonies, to find a goddamn medieval castle looming over the city that had definitely not been there the last time they'd passed by. While Durandal frantically attempted to make sense of this anomaly, Vince and Cortana had transported down in order to help the UESC fend off the hordes of monsters terrorizing the populace. 

Somewhere along the way Durandal caught mention of Count Dracula, and how only the Belmont clan and their relatives had any luck in dealing with him. Durandal passed this info along to Vince without stopping to process what utter nonsense he was repeating, and Vince's only reply was that there wasn't time to track down a living Belmont. Clearly, they'd been poking around the stranger corners of the universe for too long.

And yet, Durandal hadn't been prepared for the moment that the Grim Reaper, Death himself, appeared before Vince in all his pallid glory.

Durandal's first instinct was to scream at Vince to run, but his idiot security officer insisted on fighting. That 'fight' swiftly devolved into little more than Death thrashing Vince from one end of the makeshift arena to the other, and at such a speed that Durandal couldn't get a teleport lock on; he watched, short of breath and hands trembling violently, as Death lifted a battered Vince by the neck.

He still remembered what Death had called Vince—“a man long dead with a wandering soul”. The spectre readied his scythe, claimed that it was time Vince came home--

Death didn't get the chance to finish; a white raven flew into his line of sight, giving its master the distraction she needed to strike the scythe right out of Death's hand.

The particulars of that skirmish, Durandal hadn't paid as much attention to—Vince wasn't getting back up right away from where Death had dropped him—but he'd caught glimpses of the newcomer furiously whipping at Death and at the smaller sickles he'd summoned to try and distract her. Eventually, Death teleported away, claiming that his master would not be slain this time.

Vince finally pushed himself up, and the first thing out of Trista Belmont's mouth was a caustic insult.

And now, due to the circumstances, Trista and her pet raven Albedo were currently staying on the Rozinante, along with a third guest. If Durandal thought he could afford it, he'd have kicked out the former two long ago.

–

The worst of Vince's injuries were mostly healed by now, but the medical staff insisted on keeping him in sickbay for a few more days. Fine by Durandal, for the most part—it was one less person to worry about, what with Cortana and several S'pht heading down to Valahia on a near-daily basis. But feeling Vince's presence at his back would have really helped in clearing his mind.

Durandal had been lying wide awake for about three hours, alternating between staring at his digital clock and at his open notebook, currently flipped open to a page half-full of frustrated scrawling. Two weeks, with Trista tossing him occasional scraps of information, and he still barely understood anything about this situation, much less the entity responsible for it; even Cortana didn't have much to offer on the myriad of creatures she'd been busy cutting down besides “it's magic”.

There was only one person on this ship who'd be able and willing to help him with these irritating gaps in his knowledge, but…

It was humiliating, feeling so intimidated by an ally who'd made no aggressive moves towards him or any of his crew. Even knowing that he was a dhampir, there was something about Alucard that made it seem like he was on another plane of existence entirely. His superhuman grace, his combat capabilities that nearly matched Vince's, his unfailing calm under pressure...and there Durandal was, all his imperfections laid bare, trying and failing not to stammer.

Vince didn't seem fazed when Alucard visited him in sickbay; he responded more or less exactly how Durandal expected him to, once the dhampir was out of earshot: “He's full of shit.”

Of course, Durandal wasn't going to tell Alucard that. What he was going to do was swallow his insecurities and have a proper conversation with that man, or at least a Q&A session.

He pulled himself out of bed and threw on some black pajama pants and an oversized shirt. Not the most dignified ensemble, but his normal clothes hadn't been retrieved from the wash.

–

On a hunch, the first place Durandal checked was the library. It paid off; Alucard sat in plain view at one of the center tables, absorbed in a massive tome. He paid no mind to Durandal quietly crossing the library until the android pulled out a chair opposite Alucard's; the sudden scraping of wood against olefin carpet didn't appear to startle him, though he did look up.

“I thought you would be asleep,” Alucard remarked.

“I—ah...” Durandal cursed himself; there went his chances of starting things off right. “I don't think I'll be able to yet. Too many things on my mind.” He opened his notebook back up to the page he'd been looking over earlier and readied his pen. “Or maybe what's not on my mind, as it were. If it's not too much trouble—what can you tell me about Dracula and his forces?”

Alucard mulled over the request for a bit, then pushed his book off to the side. “It depends on where you want to start.”

The most tactically-relevant question—how to defeat Dracula—had been answered earlier: “throw Trista at him and hope she succeeds,” if worded a bit less succinctly. 

“What are vampires, exactly?” Durandal said, then realized how that made him sound. “I—I mean, I understand what they are _conceptually_ ,” he added, heat rising to his face. “I just didn't think they existed...”

He nervously watched Alucard's expression for any sign of amusement or incredulity; Alucard remained as stoic as ever. “Until now, vampires had been a uniquely Terran menace, so I wouldn't expect a space-fairer like you to have encountered any.” He sat back in his chair. “Nobody knows when the first vampires came into existence or how, but we understand them to be undead beings who either renounce humanity or have it taken from them; most have the ability to use black magic, and those select few powerful enough can draw directly from the origin of all evil.”

Durandal copied it all down while silently debating on whether or not to admit that he didn't think black magic was a real thing, either. “So, where does Dracula fall into all of this? Just an older vampire, or..?”

“The master of them all,” Alucard said, and Durandal's heart sank. “In fact, he's the lord of all of Earth's dark forces. I want you to understand this, Durandal: whatever threats you've been up against in the past are unlikely to have been as dangerous as what you're faced with now.”

Part of Durandal wanted to retort with an itemized list of all the deadly situations his crew had survived; another part of him understood that now wasn't the time for that, and he simply resumed writing without comment.

“And another thing. The traditional methods of turning don't seem to work on androids, but that doesn't mean there aren't other ways. You're ultimately human, after all--”

Durandal pointedly slapped the pen down to cut him off. “I'm an _android_ , not a human,” he said testily. “And what makes you think that androids can be turned?”

The pause before Alucard answered him lasted few seconds too long for comfort. “Because I've dealt with the results.”

All Durandal could think to do was stare at him. “But we're--” he started, then remembered what Alucard had insisted not five seconds ago, and settled on, “We don't have the same biology as humans; how could that be possible?”

“You have a mind and a soul,” Alucard said. “All a vampire would have to do is corrupt them, and you'll join their ranks.” When he didn't receive any sort of response, he added, “Is there anything else you'd like to know?”

Not about vampires, if Alucard was going to lean on notions like that. Durandal's mind floated back to that horrible fight he'd witnessed many days earlier, and what felt like a hundred questions sprang to mind all at once; the first one out of his mouth was, “What is Death, in relation to Dracula? Another construct, like most of his ground forces?” He stared Alucard directly in the eye. “Please tell me that's what he is.”

To his dismay, Alucard shook his head. “The old man never divulged much about his history with my father, but I know for a fact that he is something far more ancient. Death is Father's closest confidant, and the most powerful of his lieutenants; he usually guards the final paths to my father's throne, but I can't be sure this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Callahan has his attention, and he's the scheming sort. Under normal circumstances, I would advise you not to send your companion down to the colony again, but now it may not do him any good.” 

Once the implication sunk in, Durandal said, “If Death boards my ship and goes after Vince directly, I'll force him back off myself.”

Alucard looked at him solemnly. “You'll do no such thing unless you want Callahan to watch you die.”

The library fell silent as the grave for a few minutes; eventually, Durandal muttered, “Let's move on.”

–

It was hard to tell exactly how much time had passed by the end of their conversation; Durandal had twelve pages of notes, densely packed front to back in the smallest handwriting he could muster, and even just after having every line of it explained to him not long ago, some of it still wasn't making any sense. Not enough time to properly absorb it all, perhaps, or maybe fatigue was properly setting in at last.

Durandal shut his notebook and stood from his chair. “Well—thank you for your time, Alucard. I guess I'll return to my quarters now, unless...” 

He noticed how Alucard didn't seem the least bit tired even though it had to be midnight at the earliest, then realized that he'd left that sentence hanging and made himself look bad. Again.

“Unless I have something else to add?” Alucard offered. “Nothing at the moment, but I do have a question of my own.” He looked around at the dozens of bookshelves, and for the first time, his stoicism faltered into something less self-assured. “If—no, when this crisis passes, and if I'm not able to go home right away. You wouldn't happen to have anything on the—well...” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “...more salacious side, would you?”

Durandal stared at him for a moment in disbelief, then laughed. “I'd suggest you ask my crew, but I don't think many of them would admit to stocking that here.”

He wasn't going to let Alucard know about all the trashy erotica Cortana had picked up over the years, both to spare his sister's dignity and to not get tied up in a mat and suspended from the ceiling for several hours.

“I'll—keep that in mind.” Alucard tried to casually return to his doorstopper of a book; when Durandal didn't leave right away, the dhampir awkwardly waved him off. “Don't you know how late it is? You ought to go back to bed.”

Durandal opted not to embarrass him further and departed without another word. 

When he finally settled back into his bed, sleep came to him with relative ease; there were still many things about that mysterious castle and its residents that he had yet to fully understand, but at least Alucard felt a little less immaculate.

**Author's Note:**

> pssst if anyone would like to write me some Alucard/Durandal/Vince stuff (there's little chance of Vince letting some random dhampir romance his boyfriend without supervision) I would be very grateful. /shameless request
> 
> I was gonna have Alucard reference, then try to backpedal from, Anne Rice, but it I wasn't sure how to work that in without it sticking out. (You can't tell me he _wouldn't_ read Rice's stuff.)


End file.
